


don't give it a hand (offer it a soul)

by Kittendiamore



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 08:57:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13050732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittendiamore/pseuds/Kittendiamore
Summary: Damen is a full-time prince, part time fae hunter. Laurent needs someone to help him get into the fae realm and rescue his kidnapped brother.





	don't give it a hand (offer it a soul)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my gift for the Secret Santa exchange. I had the prompt:
> 
> "AU where Damen and Laurent are captured by The Fae/Aliens/Wizards/(fill in the blank plot contrivance) and must work together to beat the challenges they are set - if they win a set number of challenges they are set free and also win a prize, maybe? Up to you if Damen killed Auguste in this or if Laurent just hates him because he thinks Akielons are assholes."
> 
> Which I just re-read and now realise I followed only minimally. Uh, enjoy. 
> 
> Beta'd by [Arsaces](https://arsaces-of-akielos.tumblr.com/) and [Books](https://booksr4life.tumblr.com/)

It’s always a heady feeling starting the journey home after a successful mission. It’s late by the time they get to the inn, but the fire is roaring, the wine is good, and the inn is bustling with people. They decide not to retire to their rooms just yet.

“To a job well done,” Nikandros says, raising his cup.

Pallas and Aktis cheer to that, and so does the sweet barmaid who has curled herself up against Damen’s side.

“Did you really defeat a Nixe?” the barmaid, Sophia asks. She is short and soft, a lovely woman with big blue eyes and auburn curls. Damen smiles at her. Nikandros winks at him.

“I did,” Damen says.

“I heard that dozens of strong Akielon men are drowned by them every year. How did you do it?”

“Do you know how they drown the men?” he asks.

She shakes her head.

“The Nixe,” Damen says, “are shapeshifters. This one liked to appear as a very beautiful woman. Beautiful enough that a man wouldn’t notice that she was leading him to his grave.”

“But you resisted her beauty?” she asks.

“Not at all,” Damen tucks a stray curl behind Sophia’s ear and lowers his voice. “I am easily seduced by a lovely face.”

She blushes. Damen continues: “The Nixe smiled at me and she held out her hand.”

“What did you do?”

“Hold out your hand,” he prompts.

She does. She has very nice fingers.

“I took it.” Damen clasps their hands together, then pulls up his sleeve. His right arm is wrapped in a thin, iron chain; his fingers are adorned with iron rings. “She didn’t like my jewellery.”

Sophia uses her other hand to clasp Damen’s forearm. “ _I_ like it,” she says, coyly.

Damen tilts his head towards her.

“Hey!” the Innkeeper shouts, voice booming. “Get down from there!”

The inn falls quiet. A young man is standing on top of a table in the middle of the room. He is unexpectedly sure-footed - he doesn’t look to be intoxicated at all despite his current situation. He’s also the most beautiful person that Damen has ever seen.

“I am looking,” the man announces, “for Prince Damianos, the Fae-Killer. I have heard he is here.”

“Oh no,” Nikandros murmurs.

Damen is standing before he even thinks. The man looks to him. His hair is platinum, and in a braid that reaches his back. His eyes are icy blue.

“You?” he demands.

“Me,” Damen agrees. He approaches the man’s table and offers him a hand down. The man gives Damen a cold look and steps down gracefully without the assistance.

He grabs a chair and drags it over to Damen’s table. The sound of the chair legs scraping against the floor is cringe inducing.

“Help yourself to the wine” Damen says, taking his own seat again. “What’s your name?”

“Names have power,” he says, sounding unduly cross for someone who has found what he was looking for. “I’m no fool.”

“You know my name,” Damen says.

“Everyone in this kingdom knows your name,” he replies. “You may call me Laurent.”

“Laurent,” Damen smiles. “What can I do for you?”

“Stop smiling for one,” Laurent says. “I require your services.”

“We don’t have time for detours, Damen,” Nik says. “Your father is expecting us.”

Damen doesn’t look away from Laurent. “What do you need?”

“There’s a faerie that I need taken care of,” Laurent says. “He has my brother.”

The Fae are well known for kidnappings, and if Laurent’s brother is anywhere near as beautiful as Laurent then it is no surprise that a faerie wanted him.

“We’re needed back at the palace,” Nik repeats.

“I can pay you,” Laurent says.

“He is a Prince, he has no need for money. Pay a mercenary.”

“Trust me,” Laurent says. “This is my last resort. I hardly want to align myself with barbarians such as yourselves. Everyone else said no.”

“And so shall we,” Nik says.

They both scowl at each other.

“Why did they say no?” Damen asks.

Laurent turns back to him. “Cowardice,” he says. “I can offer you a payment better than money.”

Damen smiles. “I’m listening.”

The man reaches into his jacket and pulls out something wrapped in a lump of cloth. He unravels it.

“A knife?” Damen says. The blade looks sharp, but other than the heavily jewelled hilt, it doesn’t seem particularly special.

“ _The_ knife,” he says, picking it up. “One thrust in the heart will kill any faerie - no matter their species.”

“How did you get that?” Nik asks, sitting forward. Pallas and Aktis are leaning towards it too. A dagger like that would make protecting Damen’s people much easier.

“My brother gave it to me,” Laurent says. “At the cost of his own safety. It’s how the Regent got to him.”

“The Regent,” Damen says. “You want me to kill the fae Regent for you?”

“Yes,” Laurent says.

“But that means I’d have to-”

“Yes,” Laurent agrees. “We need to go to the Fae Realm.”

 

-

“Damen,” Nikandros says, when they are just about to cross from town to forest. “I love you like a brother. I want you to listen to me when I say you shouldn’t be doing this.”

Laurent is currently explaining to Pallas and Aktis why they can’t come. This is a journey for only Laurent and Damen.

“He needs help,” Damen says.

“He needs you alone, in the fae realm,” Nik insists. “I don’t trust him. Sure, he wants his brother back, but what if it’s not what it seems?”

“What do you mean?” Nikandros has always been suspicious. He’d used to warn Damen incessantly that Jokaste was not to be trusted. Damen had always laughed it off. He’d ended up being right, of course, but that doesn’t mean he’s right now.

“What if he doesn’t actually want you to kill the Regent?” Nik’s voice is low, so that Laurent won’t overhear them. “Fae can’t lie. Laurent can. You’re the most hated man in their realm; Laurent could have cut a deal to trade you for his brother.”

“No,” Damen says. “I don’t believe that.”

“Of course you don’t,” Nik says. “He’s blond, and beautiful, and bitchy. I know you’re going to do this. I just want you to promise to be careful. Don’t trust him blindly."

Damen laughs and claps Nik on the shoulder. “I promise,” he says. “Now relax. I’ll be back soon.”

He doesn’t look reassured at all.

 

- 

Laurent walks them through the forest together, seeming aimless.

“Are you Patran?” Damen asks.

“What makes you think that?”

“You have an accent. It’s barely there, but it exists. You’ve the colouring for a Patran too.”

“Hmm,” Laurent says. Then: “We’re not friends. Stop asking me things.”

It feels like they walk for hours, until Laurent stops suddenly. “There,” he says.

He’s pointing to a tree. Its base has rotted enough for the trunk to have fallen, held up only by another tree in its path.

“Um,” Damen says.

“It’s an archway,” Laurent replies like that means anything. “Take my hand. We have to step through it at the same time.”

“Listen,” Damen says, although he still takes Laurent’s hand because he’s not going to say no to that. “There’s a heap of myths around about how to get into the fae realm and I don’t want you to get your hopes up just because someone told you that-”

They step through the archway and suddenly it’s night time. The forest is the same but there’s something off about it. The leaves cast shadows all around them and it’s hard to see more than a few feet ahead.

They’re silent for a long moment. “You were saying?” Laurent prompts, a little smugly.

“We’re still,” Damen says, “in the forest?”

“Yes,” Laurent replies. “It should warp more the further we get from the archway.”

And with that, he starts walking.

 

-

Laurent takes the lead, walking with the confidence of a man who knows exactly where he’s going. Damen wonders if he’s always this insistent on looking totally in control.

“Are you sure this is the right way?”

“These things called maps exist,” Laurent says. “Although typically you need to know how to read to use them.”

“You’re not very forthcoming, considering I’m literally risking my life for you.”

“No,” Laurent says, “You’re risking your life for my blade.”

“I would have agreed to this anyway. Nik was just being protective when he was questioning you.”

Laurent spins on his heel and stalks back towards Damen. He’s angry, Damen realises. His fists are clenched and his expression is a sudden thunderstorm. “Stop talking,” Laurent says. “I don’t need you to pretend you’re a good person. I don’t buy it.”

“I’m not a-”

“You’re a Prince!” Laurent says. “You were born rich and loved and privileged, and yet all you do with it is abandon your duties to skulk around in forests and show off how strong you are. I’m sure it’s a charming life for you to-”

Laurent drops. A vine has wrapped itself around his ankle while he was distracted and it drags him across the ground, only to lift and hang him upside down. Damen is now looking up at him.

Discounting the length of his braid hanging down, Laurent’s head is about six foot off the ground. Damen knows because they are at a height. “What the hell?” Damen says, looking at the vine. Now that he’s seen it, Damen realises the vines are everywhere in the forest, writhing quietly.

Laurent makes a frustrated sound, and then swears in no less than four different languages. He’s already gotten a hold of himself and is trying to reach for the knife in his boot.

“Are you okay?” Damen asks.

“Fuck you,” Laurent says. He gets his knife and, in a display of strength and flexibility that will haunt Damen for years to come, manages to start sawing away at the vine. Damen goes to stand under him, arms out. “What are you doing?”

“You’re going to fall when you get through that,” Damen says.

“Then let me fall,” Laurent replies, teeth clenched. “If you touch me I’ll cut your hands off next.”

Damen steps back. “Has anyone ever told you you’re kind of a -”

Laurent hits the ground heavily.

“-bitch.”

“Yes,” Laurent gasps out from the ground, winded.

“You know, I was only offering to catch you. You don’t have to be so needlessly hostile.”

Laurent pulls himself to his feet. “Let’s go,” he says, beginning to walk.

“Why do you hate me?” Damen asks.

Laurent frowns. “Do I hate you?”

Damen hopes his face looks appropriately skeptical. “You’ve been in a constant state of unhappiness since we met.”

“My brother has been captured.”

“And soon he won’t be.”

“You’re a murderer,” Laurent says. “You kill indiscriminately.”

“I protect my people, our people, from the fae. You said it yourself: they kidnapped your brother.”

“No,” Laurent says. “ _One_ of them did. Are you really so self-centred to think this entire realm cares only about ruining human lives? There are humans who beat children and rape and steal, and yet you’re not blaming the entire species for that.”

“I only go for the ones that are known to attack humans.”

“I heard you talking about the Nixe you attacked, in the bar. She wasn’t trying to kill you.”

“If you overheard that,” Damen says, and he grins, “then you should’ve already known who I was and not needed to stand on any tables.”

“I saw that buxom woman by your side. I was hardly going to get your attention by trying to interrupt _that_ politely.”

Damen looked Laurent up and down. “I definitely would’ve paid attention to _you_ approaching me.”

Laurent gives Damen a wide-eyed look. Damen has to wonder if Laurent’s ever looked in a mirror.

“That’s...” Laurent says. He bites his lip. “Not the point. Nixe don’t drown men. They take them as their husbands. The myth that they drown them comes from the humiliated girlfriends who get left behind.”

“What?” Damen says. “No.”

“Yes,” Laurent says. “Nixe breed with men. They like strong ones to have strong daughters with. That one was essentially proposing to you, and you burned her with your iron.”

“How do you know this?”

Laurent let out a frustrated breath. “Why must you spend this entire journey assuming I’m uneducated. I know things! I do research!”

“Okay,” Damen says. He doesn’t know what to think right now. “Okay.”

They’re saved from continuing the conversation because Laurent stops walking suddenly, and Damen looks ahead to see an intruder before them.

It’s a faerie, that much is clear by his unearthly beauty. The boy is barely as tall as Damen’s hip, with voluminous dark curls and an outfit that looks to be made of more pearls than cloth.

“What,” the boy says, in a voice that would be threatening if it weren’t still unbroken, “are you doing?”

Laurent reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fine, golden earring, filled with sapphires. It looks expensive. Damen makes a note to never ask how he acquired such a thing.

“Let us pass,” Laurent says. “ _Safely_. And you can have this.”

The boy crosses his arms and jerks his chin in Damen’s direction. “I know who that is. It’s going to cost you more than a couple of rocks for me to let _him_ into our realm.”

They both stare at each other in a way that makes Damen consider that he’s going to be stuck here all night in a showdown of stubbornness.

“Fine,” Laurent says tersely, as if their silence had actually been a long argument. “My hair,” he continues. “You can cut off five inches.”

Damen is about to explain to Laurent that, while beautiful, his hair isn’t actually worth as much as sapphires, when the boy responds. “I want you bald.”

“No,” Laurent replies. “To my shoulders.”

“To your chin,” the child haggles.

“Deal,” Laurent says.

The boy grins wide. His teeth are very white and very straight. Damen has never been unsettled by a child’s smile before.

The boy claps and suddenly there’s a pair of golden scissors in his hand. He hops over to them with unbridled glee. He stands in front of Damen expectantly.

“I’m called Nicaise,” the boy says.

“Okay,” Damen replies. He doesn’t actually care but it’s probably too rude to say that.

Nicaise gestures impatiently. “Pick me up so I can cut his hair already, brute.”

Damen looks to Laurent. Laurent nods. Damen picks the boy up.

Laurent is pulling his fine hair from its braid. The platinum reaches the small of his back. Damen is already mourning it as Nicaise opens the scissors.

When he is done, Nicaise stabs at one of Damen’s hands with the scissors. “Put me down.”

“Satisfied?” Laurent asks, trying and failing to tuck his shortened hair behind his ears. Nicaise has done a surprisingly good job. Laurent’s hair had been resplendent long, but now it emphasises the strong line of his jaw and his high-cheekbones.

“No,” Nicaise says, scowling. “I should have made you go bald.”

“But you didn’t,” Laurent says. “And a deal is a deal.”

“Whatever. You can go past.”

“Thank you, Nicaise,” Laurent says. He seems oddly amused by the whole situation. “Damen, come.”

They leave the fae boy behind, watching them until they’re out of sight down the path.

“Is he,” Damen says, awkwardly, “going to do something weird with your hair?”

“What?” Laurent says. “No. I’m prettier than he is. That’s why he wanted me to cut it.”

“He was jealous?” Damen says.

“Yes,” the corner of Laurent’s mouth twitches up. “Do you think he’s more attractive than me now?”

“You’re right,” Damen says. “The hair was your only good quality. I was blinded by it before.”

Laurent laughs. He sounds like honey tastes. “Alas,” he says, “I’ll die a spinster now.”

 

-

“I don’t hate the fae,” Damen says.

Laurent casts him a look but doesn’t comment.

“It’s not a matter of killing with prejudice or seeking them out, it’s just…” Damen frowns. “I want to be a good king. I want to protect my people from the things they fear, and if they fear the fae, if they are lacking the ability to fight for themselves, then I…”

“Everyone calls you the mighty fae-killer,” Laurent says, finally. “Have you considered you’re the monster the fae children fear at night?”

“I used to want to treaty with the fae, but I couldn’t find a way to get to their leader. And now, if their own Regent is bad enough to attack your brother, I worry what his replacement will be like.”

Laurent clears his throat. “You sound like my brother,” he says, “He thinks we can exist peacefully; he says that humans and fae can find common ground.”

“Perhaps you and your brother would like to advise me,” Damen says, “when this is all over.”

Laurent looks away. “Perhaps,” he repeats, softly.

 

-

Eventually the plants get thicker and they’re forced to follow a narrow path that leads them to a cave.

“A cave,” Damen says, displeased.

“Yes,” Laurent frowns. “It’ll be dark in there, and the corridors are winding and confusing. Any human who makes it this far is intended to get lost.”

“Is there a guidebook on this place that I just haven’t found?” Damen says. He’s uneasy to go in somewhere blind.

“I’ve been preparing for this for a very long time,” Laurent replies. “I’ve seen a map of the cave. I’ll take lead.”

Laurent walks in front, taking them into the cave. There’s a sharp turn that cuts off any natural light that was getting in.

“Laurent.” Damen says.

“What?”

“I can’t see anything.” He waves a hand in front of his own face. Nothing, just pure darkness.

There’s a long pause. Laurent says. “Hold out your left hand.”

He does, reaching out. “That’s my shoulder,” Laurent says. “Just hold on and follow me.”

It’s odd moving like this, blind to where he’s going and only able to trust in Laurent and his ability to memorise maps. Laurent’s shoulder is warm under his palm, and it’s odd to know that if he slid his hand forward a little, he could touch the delicate jut of his collarbone. Laurent is very beautiful, all pale golds and lean lines, but even without the sight of him, he still manages to be alluring. He quietly warns Damen about rough steps and rocks, or when the path narrows. Damen sinks into his voice, eyes closed, and lets it dull his anxiety from the blindness.

They come to a point where Laurent suddenly tenses under his palms. “Ah,” he says. “Can you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Damen asks.

“This part is enchanted,” Laurent says. “In a few steps, the walls will talk to you. It’s important you don’t listen to them. They’re very convincing and they’ll try to lead you astray.”

“What can you hear?”

Laurent takes a long moment to answer. “Nothing good.”

They keep moving forward and then Damen learns what he means. The walls don’t speak in words, it’s more in feelings. His ears ring and his chest tightens. “What is this?” Damen says.

“It’s okay,” Laurent says, sounding a little faint himself. “Focus on moving forward.”

Damianos is no coward - he has faced many things in his life and never let fear get the best of him - but this is something else altogether. It’s like a song is being delivered straight to his brain and it calls only for his destruction. His hand clenches on Laurent’s shoulder. He wants to stop but Laurent is still walking and he can’t.

His father is sick, he remembers suddenly. His father, his King, is ill and he wishes only to see his heir make their kingdom safe for their people. The fae have been reported more and more lately, and now Damen wanders into their realm. He’s going to die here, he realises. He’s going to die and there’s nothing he can do about it.

Damen lets go of Laurent’s shoulder. He needs to turn back now, before it’s too late.

“Damen,” Laurent says, but it’s hard to hear over the ever-present ringing. “Damen! Don’t move.” He almost sounds afraid.

Damen isn’t moving though. He’s just standing there, overcome with a feeling like the walls are coming in.

“You’re panicking,” Laurent says, in what would be a soothing tone if it weren’t so taught. “It’s a natural reaction to this part of the cave. Listen to my voice, Damen. You’re safe. It’s just noise. There’s no truth to it.”

“There is,” Damen says. He doesn’t know why he’s talking; he just feels like every stray thought, every pain and insecurity he’s ever had is pushed to the forefront of his mind. “I’m not ready to be King. My father is sick and I’m running around the country killing things so I don’t have to face it. I’m going to be alone. You were right before: I never see the full picture. And I’m too trusting. My brother always warns me. Nikandros warns me. I don’t listen.” The ringing won’t stop. He knows in a far off way that he doesn’t actually feel like this, that the walls are making him overreact but he also can’t stop it.

“Sit down,” Laurent says, sharply.  Damen does. “Put your hands on your knees.”

Then, with a curt “Don’t touch me”, he feels Laurent fold himself gently into Damen’s lap. The shock of the gesture is almost enough to send Damen out of his spiral, and then he feels Laurent put a gentle hand on either side of his neck and lean close to him.

Their cheeks touch. Laurent’s lips hover at his ear. “Damianos,” he says, voice the delicate caress of a breeze on a summer day. His body is warm and slender, but with a surprising strength to it. It’s odd that even in this position, Damen feels like the delicate one. “We have no more than one hundred feet to go before we hit the light. I know it’s hard to control your mind - I feel it too - but it need not last for much longer. All you need to do is trust this. We are here, we are physical - your thoughts are not. We can do this together.”

“I trust you,” Damen says. It’s hard to think of much more than Laurent, softer than ever, holding him as close as a lover.

Laurent doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Then, “Thank you,” he murmurs, and he’s standing up and taking Damen’s left hand, pulling him to his feet. “We can do this,” he says. “We are here together.”

They walk. Each step is filled with the ringing in his ears, the false anxiety that thrums in his blood, but he focuses on the hand in his - smaller than his own but just as strong - and after what seems like an eternity, light washes over them.

Damen blinks his eyes open, adjusting to the brightness. It’s daytime again. All he can hear is the sound of birds. He looks at Laurent, whose pale skin seems to have whitened further. He was afraid in there too, Damen thinks.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Laurent frowns. “It’s okay. It affected me too.”

“That’s why I’m sorry. You had to comfort me and I didn’t help you.”

“You did help,” he says, brusque. “You didn’t leave me.”

Damen takes a moment to see him as he is - not the cold and haughty know-it-all - but as the young man left all alone in the world and afraid enough to lose his brother that he’d risk his life like this and go through these trials. It’s braver that he’d done his research; he knew of all the horrors he’d have to face in this journey and yet embarked on it anyway.

“Even if I had,” Damen replies, instead of promising Laurent he won’t leave him, “you could have done it on your own. You’re so strong. I couldn’t have gotten through that without you.”

“It’s easier to deal with fear,” Laurent says, “when you’re used to it.”

They stand facing each other. Laurent’s hand is still in his.

“We’re going to get your brother back,” Damen feels compelled to say. “I want you to know that I’m going to do-”

“Don’t promise it,” Laurent cuts in. He hesitates. “Damen, I…”

He’s so soft like this, uncertain and self-conscious. Damen can still feel it, the tender touch of their cheeks together. He wants to know Laurent. He wants to be gentle with him. He gravitates toward him.

“I think you’ll make a great king,” Laurent continues. “I’m very grateful that you are nothing like I imagined.”

They are standing very close. Damen could count his golden eyelashes.

“Damen,” Laurent says. Then, “Don’t touch me.”

Laurent closes the distance between them in a kiss, chaste and quick before he goes in for a second, a third. At the fourth he parts his lips and Damen gets to taste his mouth. Laurent kisses sweetly, almost hesitantly, and yet Damen feels consumed. His heart is hammering. His only thoughts are of the thrill of Laurent’s mouth and the fear that he’ll stop. Damen could live like this.

Laurent must share some of that sentiment, because he surges forward so that they are chest to chest. He loses his balance, slightly, and it’s automatic for Damen to steady him. The second Damen’s hands touch Laurent’s bare wrists, he jerks away violently with a sound like a hiss.

Damen opens his mouth to apologise, but first he sees.

Laurent’s wrists are bright red where Damen has touched him. Damen looks down at his own iron-laden fingers, and then back to the ugly burns now adorning Laurent like macabre manacles.

Laurent’s expression is horrified. Damen is sure his matches. “You are,” he’s speaking but he feels at a distance, like it’s somebody else talking, “fae?”

Then it’s like a fog has lifted; his mind clears. It should have been obvious in Laurent’s anger when they’d met, the way he’d called him _fae-killer_ like it was a title. And this is where Prince Damianos, Fae-Killer has ended up: in the fae realm, seduced by a faerie. Damen has never been afraid of death, but he is suddenly very aware of his own mortality.

“Damen,” Laurent says. “Don’t act rashly. _Think_. Yes, I’m fae. That means I cannot lie. I have not lied to you.”

“We both know not lying and being truthful are very different things,” Damen says, faintly. Is there any point in running? He’s trying to remember if he has accidentally promised something to Laurent. How was he so foolish?

“I won’t pretend that I’ve not used delicacy, in what I’ve said to you, but there were no lies between us.” He takes a very careful step towards Damen. “There _are_ no lies between us.”

Damen is tempted to take that pretty head in the palm of his hands and watch his rings do their work. His chest is too tight. He’s not known Laurent long enough to warrant this kind of feeling.

“You have beguiled me,” Damen says, horrified.

“No,” Laurent says. “No. That was not my intention.”

“Speak plainly,” he grinds out. “You have played with me like a pet. My heart was not for you to seduce; I do not want this.”

“Whatever you’re feeling right now is true, Damianos,” Laurent says. “I have not enchanted your emotions. I promise you.”

“I cannot,” Damen says, “love a fae.”

Laurent makes a choked noise, stepping away, but his voice is calm when he speaks again. “You should go,” he says. “This wasn’t meant to happen. You’ll be able to find your way back yourself - it’s easier to leave this realm than to enter it. I will not try to stop you. I need to go save my brother.”

Damen is frozen where he stands, and Laurent. Laurent is true to his word. He walks away.

 

-

There is a part of being royalty, of being the future king, that means preparing for betrayal. No king is completely accepted, there is always jealousy, mistrust, and backstabbing.

When Damen was nineteen, he’d been engaged to be married to a beautiful woman named Jokaste. Jokaste had been everything - intelligent, witty, gorgeous, and funny. She’d also been in love with his brother.

He’d found out when a handmaid that he’d given to Jokaste, Lykaios, has found a collection on love-letters in her room. At first, he’d been upset, devastated, betrayed, but...

He’d read one of the letters and realised that he did not love Jokaste. He was with her because his King had wanted it. And then he’d held the truth in his hand - a letter which expressed things he’d never felt - and he’d known. He’d stood proudly beside his brother that spring when Jokaste and Kastor had been wed.

Jokaste and Damen had only really wanted each other for love of their family’s wishes.  

Laurent has not betrayed him, not really. Laurent is acting for the behalf of his brother, for the love of his brother. And it is fair for Laurent to have hated Damen, the Fae-Killer. He thinks of Laurent’s hostility and then gradual way he softened over their journey. He thinks of Laurent comforting him in the cave, and after the cave, and the way he’d kissed him like he couldn’t help it. Damen thinks of the way his heart is still beating fast. The initial shock is wearing off.

He looks behind him: it’s the way he came from, the way home to his father and Nikandros.

He considers it, of course he does, but in the end - enchanted or not - Laurent needs help and Damen can’t leave him to face his fears alone. He walks forward.

 

-

It doesn’t take long to catch up with Laurent, and when he does, Laurent looks up at him with wide-eyed shock.

“You came back,” he says.

“I came back,” Damen replies. They keep walking.

 

-

“The Regent is my uncle,” Laurent says, eventually. “My mother was the queen, and as she had no daughters, when she died the title was passed on to my brother.” Laurent smiles, “He’s a good king. He cares a lot about our kind and he was working on improving the relationship between us and your realm. He loves Akielos; he would disguise himself and spend weeks there. He calls himself Auguste, for the month he was born.”

“You’re rambling.”

“I’m nervous,” Laurent admits. “My uncle is a jealous man, but he is not of our matrilineal line so he can never truly become king. He would attack my brother and I out of spite sometimes; Auguste retrieved the dagger so he could protect us. But my uncle is intelligent, and he separated us. Auguste gave the dagger to me before we parted - he knows my uncle would never dare attack me directly at even the slightest risk that I could kill him.

“My uncle predicted that. He’s very powerful and he caught Auguste defenseless. He has poisoned my brother so that he is weak, and my uncle has stepped into the role of Regent. He needs Auguste to be alive but powerless so that he can rule in his place.”

“You had to reveal your true self to me eventually,” Damen says. “You know that. How were you going to ensure that I’d fight for you?”

Laurent looks at him steadily. “I was going to trick you,” he admits, “into promising to help me.”

A promise to a fae is binding. Damen would have been forced to challenge the Regent no matter what. He thinks distantly of moments ago, of Laurent cutting in. _Don’t promise me_.

Damen breathes. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s keep going.”

 

-

“We’re almost there,” Laurent says, not long later. He turns to Damen and sighs. “Appearances are everything here.”

He puts his hands on Damen’s shoulders and runs them down his chest, keeps moving down until he’s on his knees before Damen. Left in the wake of his trailing fingers, Damen’s clothing transforms until he’s in a glistening gold chest plate, and pants of midnight blue. His shoulders are bare but for his iron rings and intricate patterns made in golden paint. When Laurent rises, his clothing has also changed.

He’s in a tightly laced suit of gold and blue, sleeves flowing. Peacock feather earrings hang to his shoulders. He looks sharper like this, every inch beautifully polished, truly fae. Damen suddenly finds it hard to believe that he ever saw Laurent as anything else but a prince in his own right.

“That should do it,” he says, brushing his hands through Damen’s curls. A petal falls and Damen realises that there’s flowers in his hair now. “My champion.”

“You sound nervous.”

“I originally chose you,” Laurent says, “because I thought I hated you. It wouldn’t hurt me if my uncle bested you. I have more to fear now.”

Damen lifts his un-jewelled left hand up to cup Laurents cheek. Laurent leans into it, as if a natural response to him. “I won’t let you down.”

“I trust you,” Laurent says.

 

-

The fae court is surrounded by a cluster of thick trees, planted side by side to form a large, circular wall. The entrance is a large set of carved double doors, twice as tall as Damen and five times as wide. Laurent straightens his shoulders and pushes through the doors, unintimidated.

The court is large, filled with greenery and creatures of all kinds. The ceiling is open, only blue skies and the leafy tops of trees above them. It is a bustling landscape of revelry and noise and at the opposite side of the doors sits a grand throne. A man sits on the throne with a lazy posture, talking quietly to a curly haired fae boy. Nicaise, Damen recognises.

Behind the throne is a large, glass case, in which lies a beautiful, dark blonde man, covered in flowers. It looks like a coffin.

Everyone is too far in their own celebrations to notice them enter. Laurent marches them both to the center of the court before he visibly takes a deep breath.

“Uncle,” Laurent says, loudly. His tone is insouciant. A wayward nephew. The fae immediately fall silent to watch them. “I have come to challenge you.”

The Regent acts equally uncaring when he turns to look at Laurent. He doesn’t bother standing. “Nephew,” he says. “You were gone so long I assumed you dead. I see by the man at your side that the truth is worse.”

“I bring Crown Prince Damianos of Akielos as my champion,” Laurent announces. The fae who haven’t already recognised Damen gasp in horror at his name.

“You bring our enemy to our own doorstep to fight for you,” the Regent says. “Are you mad?”

“Furious,” Laurent replies. “Now stand up and fight.”

“I’ll choose my own champion,” the Regent declares. He looks to Nicaise who seems to be vibrating with either terror or excitement. Perhaps both. “Find Govart.”

“He’s dead,” Laurent interrupts. “I killed him when you sent him to cut my heart out. Find a champion or fight for yourself.”

No one steps forward to volunteer. Damen sees that Laurent had been right: he is something of a nightmare to the fae; his name as champion is enough to convince them not to fight.

The Regent shrugs. “Nicaise,” he says.

Laurent tenses.

The fae boy looks up at the Regent.

“Don’t worry,” The Regent says. “Laurent acts as if he cares for you. Surely he won’t let the brute murder you.”

Nicaise laughs. The sound is spiteful. “No,” he says. “You want to lead us: fight him yourself.”

The only sign that the Regent isn’t prepared for this is a twitch in his jaw.

Laurent turns to Damen suddenly. “You must stay aware,” he says urgently, too quiet for the fae around them to hear. “He will fight dirty. He is at his most dangerous when pushed into a corner.”

Damen has fought many fae in his lifetime, but none have been of the caliber that the Regent is. As the acting monarch of the realm, he receives power from it and that makes him near untouchable. Damen touches the tips of his fingers to Laurent’s cheek and smiles. “I can do this.”

“See how he betrays his own kind for the Fae-Killer Prince!” the Regent says to the crowd. “Laurent brings the most reviled human into our homes, into our _court_ , and convinces him to kill me, all for his own gain. Without me, he’ll be next in line to rule you.”

The fae are angry, restlessly hissing at them. The Regent’s words are working on most of them.

“I do not want to rule, Uncle,” Laurent says loudly, as he steps away from Damen. “I just want rid of you. It is what’s best for our realm.”

“If you think bringing our enemy here is best for the realm, Laurent,” the Regent says, “then I truly worry for you.”

“Stop stalling,” Laurent replies, airily. “My Champion has challenged you. It is time to step into the ring.” He makes a gesture and a circle is created between them and the Regent, an outline of flowers.

He turns back to Damen. He’s holding the fae-killing knife. “You’ll need this,” he says.

“I would have preferred a sword,” Damen admits.

Laurent, in a display of nonchalance only available to fae folk performing miracles as if it is rote, sharply drops to stab the knife into the dirt. When he pulls it back out, by the hilt, the metal has extended.

“There,” Laurent says, reoffering it. “A sword.”

Damen takes it. The balance is perfect. It feels like an extension of his own arm, rather than a weapon.

Then, right before he steps into the ring, Laurent surges forward and kisses him. Their audience gasp, horrified. “Don’t die,” Laurent says. “You’re not allowed to.”

 

-

The Regent makes a sword of his own when he joins the ring and pretends it’s in the honour of fairness. “Also in fairness,” he says, in a voice low and only to Damen, “I should warn you that it’s poisoned.”

Damen wonders very suddenly what will happen to Laurent if he loses this fight.

The Regent swings his blade lightning fast between his hands, almost playful. And then a horn is played and the fight begins.

The Regent is very good, with all his fae strength and skills behind him, but he is not as good as Damen - who has relied on only his body and his weapons to fight the fae since he was a child. If this were a fair fight, Damen would have won by now. But it is not a fair fight. Damen cannot get close enough to strike the Regent down when he has to avoid even a nick from his opponent’s poisoned blade.

They strike, parry, and dodge at each other in an endless flash of metal. It feels like a dance where he’s being goaded to stumble.

In the end, Damen realises that there is only one way out of this fight.

The Regent swings and Damen catches the blade in the gap of his armour, his left shoulder.  He’s close enough now to pierce the Regent’s heart. The triumph that lights up the Regent’s eyes quickly fades; he falls and Damen, still impaled on the poisoned blade, has no option but to fall with him.

“No!” he hears Laurent shout. “Damianos!”

Then Laurent is grabbing him, pulling him to rest his head in his lap. Damen’s view is the sweet image of Laurent’s face from above him, the sky his halo. It feels as if flames are licking across his shoulder. The wound wouldn’t be fatal if it weren’t for the poison in his veins.

Damen reaches up with his right hand, rests it on Laurent’s face. “The poison must be bad,” Damen says, “for you to look this worried.”

Laurent makes an choked noise. His brow is pinched, lips downturned. “You knew it was poisoned,” Laurent says. “And you still let him stab you, you idiot barbarian.”

“It was the best way to guarantee a win,” Damen replies. Absurdly, he can’t help but smile. “Your brother is safe. I told you.”

Laurent looks away from him and out to their audience. “I am your acting Regent now,” he says, voice booming with authority. “Healers, step forward.”

Damen closes his eyes. He doesn’t need to see Laurent’s face to know that no-one will step forward for him. He is the enemy, and he just killed one of their kind in front of them all.

“Healers!” Laurent says again, and then, urgently: “Open your eyes, Damen.”

“It’s okay,” Damen says. It’s difficult to keep his eyes open, but he does it for Laurent. His shoulder is close to his heart, he thinks. It won’t be long now. “This will set back your brother’s plan to make our kingdom’s allies,” he says, “but you’ll be able to do it. I have faith in you.”

Laurent clenches his jaw. He looks out at the audience again. “My uncle poisoned my brother,” he says, “he murdered my mother, your queen. All so he could have power. You should be lining up for the chance to help the man who saved us from him.

“By doing nothing, you align yourselves with my uncle. He who would rip off your wings if he thought it might bring him joy.”

“It’s okay,” Damen says, because it’s important he makes it clear to Laurent. “This isn’t your fault.” He coughs. He thinks he might be about to choke on his own blood. 

Then there’s a shadow above him. He closes his eyes to a pressure on his shoulder, and Laurent’s voice. “Paschal, thank you,” Damen hears, “Damen, open your eyes, _please_.”

 

-

**Epilogue**

 

Auguste, golden King of the Fae, frowns. He’s holding a jar full of brightly coloured liquid in his hands. “Most of the council are appeased with the treaty,” he says.

He looks very out of place in Damen’s rooms, too bright and foreign.

“Good,” Damen says. “Laurent has already started working on the kyroi and commanders. He’s very convincing.”

“Well,” Auguste says, “he did manage to convince _you_ to help me.”

“Shouldn’t you be with Laurent now, rather than with me?”

“No,” Auguste says. “I trust my brother. I’m just making sure you don’t get cold feet.”

Damen puts on his crown and grins. “My feet have never been warmer.”

“As far as royal weddings go,” Auguste replies, “this one could be the most important ever to happen in our realms.”

“Between our realms,” Damen agrees.

There’s a long pause. “If you don’t make my brother very happy,” Auguste says, “I will come for you.”

“He’ll want for nothing,” Damen promises. “And you can visit each other at any time. We have a treaty now.”

Auguste nods, and then holds out the jar to Damen.

“What’s this?”

“Good health,” he replies. “A potion of sorts. It’s your wedding gift. Very hard to come by.”

Damen takes the jar. It’s bright yellow. It doesn’t look very healthy.

“Give it to your father,” Auguste explains. “Laurent intimated that he wanted you stress free for your honeymoon.”

Damen thanks him, but his mind is already miles away, on Laurent which is nothing out of the usual. If there is anything that these past months have proved, since Damen’s recovery, it’s that Laurent is the sweetest, most caring person he has ever met. There is no way that anyone would have accepted a wedding among the Crown Prince of Akielos and the Fae Prince of Vere, if it had not been for Laurent’s intelligence and skill.

He’s suddenly very excited to see Laurent, in the grand hall, in his wedding clothes. Damen is also excited to carefully peel every inch of said wedding clothing away from Laurent’s body and feel the gentle way that Laurent blossoms under his undivided attention.

“I love him,” Damen says, very suddenly. “I did not think it was possible to love so entirely until I met him.”

He remembers whispering the same sentiment into the juncture of Laurent’s neck, when they’d made love on the softest flower bed in the forest, sunlight streaming down and highlighting his golden hair like it was the finest jewel in all the realms.

Damen smiles, and he knows he will not stop smiling for many hours to come.

**Author's Note:**

> I am [Nikanndros](https://nikanndros.tumblr.com/) at tumblr. Title is from It Will Come Back by Hozier.


End file.
